by A B Lucian
“Careful,” he said, whimpering as something else cracked in his left shoulder. “I’m happy to see you too, Assai.”
“Sorry,” she said, pulling away from the strong embrace. She kept her tail wrapped around his arm.
Yosh pushed himself up and leaned against the cold bedpost. “What happened, Assai? How did I get here?” The fogginess was almost gone. He looked around the Archibald’s infirmary—a small room with three beds and monitoring equipment. The other beds were empty. “Where’s Ara?”
“The lorran girl? She’s fine, sleeping in one of the empty crew cabins. We came after you—I came after you,” she said. “We took care of the arkanian at the door, but we didn’t reach you in time. The other one shot you before—” She didn’t seem able to get the words out, but Yosh remembered all too well. His dogs had torn Rastos limb from limb. There was little satisfaction in the memory. A bloody, ragged Rastos screaming and pointing a pulse gun at Yosh, while the dogs bit into him. Then blue light followed by darkness.
“A nasty business.” Captain Dupont’s voice rang throughout the small infirmary. His heavy boots clanged against the steel floor as he approached. “It seems dogs find arkanians as delicious as arkanians find dogs.” He stopped next to Yosh’s bed and smiled at him. “How are you feeling?” His dark eyes narrowed, studying Yosh.
“Like every bone in my body is broken, and I have a splitting headache, but… I think I’m okay,” he answered, noticing the smooth skin on his arms. “Better than okay…” He’d seen the smoothness beneath the puss and dead skin before, but there hadn’t been time to be shocked or awed. He ran his fingers across his forearm all the way to his shoulder. The boils were really gone. “What have you done to me?” He realized how stupid it was to say, but he just blurted it out. They couldn’t have cured his boils. It happened during his escape from the arkanians. But how? Why now?
Captain Dupont stood at attention, frowning at Yosh, hands clasped behind his back for what seemed like ten minutes. He shook his head. “We did nothing to you, absolutely nothing. These machines only monitor your life signs and internal activity,” he said, pointing at the machinery. “But you know that.”
Suddenly invigorated, Yosh vaulted from his bed, and noticed he was naked under the white sheets. His face burned, and he pulled the sheet tight across his waist. A wicked little smile spread across Assai’s face. The captain didn’t even blink.
Yosh cleared his throat. “Okay, then what’s going on? He shot me, right in the chest.” His hand touched the smooth skin above his sternum where scorch marks and a deep cauterized hole should have been.
“Yes, he shot you, Yosh Farmer,” Captain Dupont said, and, turning on his heels, he strolled to the exit. “Assai, get him dressed and fed, and bring him to the bridge please. It is time to have the long-awaited conversation.”
Chapter Ten
“So you want to fly right past the cruiser?” Sabina asked and pursed her lips. “Has old age finally gotten to you, grandfather?”
“My mind is as sharp as it was a hundred years ago, girl,” he said, tapping and sliding some controls and leaning back in his chair. “They'll never know we’re here. It’s hard for you to notice, but the past hundred years have been more akin to the dark ages than to a technological renaissance. No one has matched Protector technology yet, and it doesn’t look like they will. Especially not the arkanians. They were never builders—more like scavengers. Besides, I recognize that ship. I’ve seen it many times. Mikail Munov is here, and that’s his flagship. It’s probably fitted with the best scraps of technology the arkanians have, but it will never detect a cloaked Protector vessel.”
“Cloaked? You mean this tiny scout ship has a hyperdrive and a cloaking device?”
A sly smile spread beneath the white mustache. “Nice, isn’t it?”
“Where does it all fit?” Sabina had studied it. It was smaller than it seemed from outside. It had a small living space behind the cockpit that fit three people at most, a small airlock, and a nook that stood for an engineering bay beneath the main deck.
Her grandfather smiled sadly and patted the control panel in front of him. “She’s unique now. You won’t find another like her in all the known systems, not anymore. She’s taken me to countless systems and back, helped me stay hidden while I spoke to human enclaves spread across the stars and rallied them to our cause. How did you think I reached so many places so fast and undetected?”
“I get it. She’s unique, huh?” Sabina winked at her grandfather. “And she is a she. What’s her name then?”
His forehead wrinkled even more then. “Name? Well, I suppose she’s had plenty of names over the years. None I’d want her to keep though. She’ll have to remain the Scout I guess.”
“That’s a terrible name. I thought you were a writer.” She grinned. “Sabina’s a much better name I think.”
Her grandfather chuckled, merriment shining in his eyes. “The Sabina then. It’s settled. Now go suit up, we’re past the cruiser and skimming the atmosphere. We’ll arrive at Shacktown soon.”
She stood and paced toward the storage spaces behind them. “Shacktown?”
“It’s what Yosh named the slave settlement we live in.”
“Oh.”
“He’s better with names than I am. Now hurry.”
“What about you?” Her grandfather still wore the black suit, white shirt and bowtie he wore on the Moon Colony.
“My suit is down there,” he answered, pointing at the viewscreen with his chin. “We’ll be retrieving it shortly.”
She discarded her skirt and blouse and went to the wall opposite the cockpit. She brushed a finger over a small bump and a tall door slid open, revealing her black assault suit. It had cost an absurd amount of money, but it fit her like a glove—the best available on the interstellar black market. Patches of reactive armor covered the shoulders, chest, thighs, and back. The subtle plating would absorb most of the shock from a pulse blast, but many people still used good old-fashioned bullets and blades. For those, there was a thin film of shock absorbing material woven into the softer parts of the suit, which allowed her to retain maximum mobility and protection. If nothing out there can match Protector technology, she mused, what will grandfather’s suit be like compared to mine?
The suit also came with a helmet, but Sabina didn’t think she’d need it. It offered extra protection, allowed fifteen minutes of space walking, and it had a rudimentary targeting system in the heads-up-display. Not that she needed help to aim. She slung it back on the wall and headed back to the cockpit. Her grandfather was leaning over the controls, muttering to himself, and on the big viewscreen she saw Mandessa from high above. Wide plains, crystal blue lakes, green and golden fields, open air, countryside. “What a nice place to grow up,” she said, scowling. She instantly regretted letting too much of her bitterness seep into the words.
Her grandfather turned and looked at her. His lips tightened. “I would have taken you off Luna if I could, sweet girl.” His eyes seemed sad. “Your father never told me where he’d hidden you and your mother.”
She forced a smile to hide the sharp pain in her chest. “It all turned out for the best. Forget about it.” She cleared her throat. “What if Yosh is on the cruiser? They might already have him.” She pointed her thumb upward.
Her grandfather shook his head. “He’s not on the cruiser.”
“He’s not? How do you know?”
“Yosh is safe. He’s with friends. I have a tracking device on him.”
“That’s good to hear… Wait, what friends? What kind of tracking device?” She bit her lip. “Do you have a tracking device on me?” She leaned toward him. All she got in response was another sly smile. “No, you can’t have planted one on me. I’ve been through a hundred scans. I would have found it long ago.” She straightened her back and smiled smugly at him. Protector technology, she thought. Can those idiots on Luna detect it? Her smile waned, and she leaned toward her grandfather again. “Seriou
sly... did you plant a tracker on me?”
He didn’t answer.
◆◆◆
Sabina watched her grandfather hunching over the screens. “Smoke,” he said. “Two ship wrecks about three miles west of Shacktown.”
“Your friends are sloppy.”
“No, they’re not. I’m not so sure it’s them.”
Sabina sighed and rested her cheek on an armored black fist. “So what’s the plan now that we know Yosh is safe? I was hoping for a big rescue mission. Good way to meet my half-brother.”
“I’d take us straight to my friends, get Yosh, and fly away, far, far away, but I left too much Protector technology in Shacktown. It cannot fall into Mikail’s hands. He’ll be able to duplicate anything he finds within a year at most, and he’s dangerous enough as it is.”
Two minutes later, they passed over the small metal hut her grandfather called home—little more than a rusty dome. Even the single rooms in Luna’s slums were bigger. They landed half a mile away and continued on foot. Sabina had her two favorite guns strapped to each hip and a slim Kohiri blade on her back. She also had various sized knives hidden all over her body, but she had stopped considering those weapons. They were part of her. Her grandfather walked a few feet ahead, leaning on his cane now and then, as if he really needed to. He so loves playing the old man, she thought.
“Won’t this Mikail expect you to come after your equipment,” Sabina asked as they approached the top of the hill. The sun was rising beyond it and the sky was a bruised violet.
“He will,” he answered. “He will also expect me to rescue the slaves from Shacktown. I’m sure he’s figured out I’m constantly scanning for life signs and he knows I’ll notice there are fewer than there are supposed to be. And the number is dropping consistently.”
“He’s killing them?”
“Yes,” he grunted. “If there’s one thing he knows about me, it’s how I can’t stand by while innocents die.”
Sabina clenched her fists. “This Mikhail is the one responsible for my father’s death, isn’t he?” Her grandfather threw her a reproachful look. “I’ve done some digging. It seems you have no intention of avenging my father, so I took matters into my own hands.”
Her grandfather scowled. “You fool of a girl. Do you know how dangerous it is to poke your nose into Mikail’s business? He’s more deadly than you think.”
“And I am more dangerous than he thinks!”
Her grandfather stopped and his strong hand wrapped around her arm. “That’s because he doesn’t even know you exist. I’ve taken care of that myself. That’s why you’ve been safe from him all this time. You prying into matters that aren’t your concern will only make Mikail aware of your presence.”
She tugged her arm away from his grasp. It still hurt, even with the protection her suit offered. “It is my business. He killed my father.”
Blue flames roared in her grandfather’s eyes. “And he killed my son! And two of my wives, and hundreds of my comrades and friends, not to mention the billions back on Earth. Billions. Don’t you think I want revenge?” Sabina looked away from the only man in the galaxy she feared. “He betrayed Earth, Sabina. I will never forgive him. His time will come, but you have to trust me.”
“I do,” she said, and continued to climb. She sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore, does it? You came to Luna after me because it’s time, isn’t it?”
He nodded and put a finger over his lips. “We’re getting close,” he whispered. “I scanned the surroundings when we flew by. There were six arkanian life signs, nothing else. Mikail must have decided to make his stand in Shacktown, but he couldn’t leave this place unguarded. Blast it, he’s likely plundered everything inside already, but I still have to check. The coward wants me to come after him. He’ll have scores of innocents there to shield him from me. He’s still as sick and twisted as ever and he has something up his sleeve, I feel it.”
“Well we can’t stand here chit-chatting all day. Let’s see what’s left. We’ll figure out what to do about the slaves later.”
“I’ve already figured that out. All we have to do is eliminate those guards,” he said, picking up the pace. They were less than three hundred yards away. “I’ll distract them. You circle through the patch of trees and brambles behind the hut.”
She nodded, and they split up. It didn’t take her long to come about and get within fifty yards of the hovel. It looked even worse up close—a bit crooked, rusty walls, and a tree grown partially around it. It all reminded her of the ruined metal towers back on Earth. She waited until the old man’s voice floated from the front. One of the three arkanians guarding the back strolled toward the commotion. Sabina slid the Kohiri blade out of its sheath. She had her guns, and one was silenced, but she liked to do her work up close. The exchange at the front got heated, distracting the two remaining guards.
When they strolled within seven feet of each other, Sabina sprang from the undergrowth. She dashed the fifteen feet separating her from the guards and slashed her blade across the one on the right’s throat before either of them could react. The second guard stepped back and raised his rifle, but she was already within two feet of him. First his hand flew off and, within a heartbeat, his head. Finest work I ever did. Something was strange about these arkanians, but there was no time to think about it now. She circled around the hovel and peered beyond the corner at what her grandfather was doing. He stood and stared dispassionately at the four arkanians pointing heavy pulse rifles at him. What is he doing? Sabina thought. No matter how tough he is, he can’t survive a blast from those rifles.
The arkanians shouted at him and spread out. “Human, surrender! On the ground or we’ll shoot.”
They should have just shot him, she thought as she slipped her Kohiri blade back in its sheath. Her grandfather said nothing. He stood, leaning with both hands on his cane. Sabina unstrapped her favorites and pulled them from their holsters. They weren’t pulse based weapons. She tried to avoid those as much as possible. Missy, in her left hand, fired flat-nosed bullets that carried a small quantity of low yield explosive. Very, very messy. Sabina rarely used her during missions that required stealth. Squeeler, in her right hand, fired a long, armor-piercing smart bullet. The bullet detected flesh around it and split into several pieces. The pieces carried poisons, explosives, or were ordinary shrapnel. Some pieces delivered a small but sharp charge of electricity in the victim’s body. The victims always made a slight whistling sound as they died. Squeeler was a one shot, one kill weapon, silent, and with very expensive bullets.
Sabina slid out from behind the hovel baring Missy and Squeeler. Missy took the head off the closest arkanian with a thunderous bang and a rain of crimson. Missy was as messy as Sabina remembered. Squeeler hit two of the others in the back in quick succession. They writhed and whistled as they fell to their knees. There was only one left. The muzzle of his rifle aimed at Sabina’s head. He had good reflexes, but her grandfather’s cane fell on the rifle and the ground absorbed his shot. Missy had all the time she needed to blast his head off. The arkanian went limp and collapsed on the ground.
Her grandfather looked around. “Nice work. You’ve gotten better, but you take too many risks and make too much mess.”
Sabina smirked and walked over to him. “You’re one to talk about risks… Just standing there. Hmm, there’s something strange about these arkanians though.” She strapped Missy and Squeeler back on her hips. “I mean, I don’t remember arkanians having tails—”
A pulse weapon whined behind them and a blast took her in the back.
◆◆◆
Sabina fell to her knees, gasping. Pain blazed through her back into her lungs and head. She became vaguely aware of grunts and heavy footsteps echoing behind her. Fighting, but how? Who? I cleared them all. I couldn’t have missed any. The plates of reactive armor on her back had absorbed most of the blast, or she’d be dead, but the impact likely deformed them and knocked the air out of her lungs. After a few mom
ents, the burn of breathing subsided as she got over the shock, but her right arm was going numb. The commotion behind her stopped. Sabina spat out a glob of blood and turned. Her grandfather lay on his back, a trickle of dark blood across his white mustache, his cane on the ground several feet away.
A man stood over him. He wore a black suit, tight against his frame, white patches of armor covering the more important parts of his body. The breast piece had a familiar symbol on it, but Sabina couldn’t remember it now. A slender helmet with the same black and white motif, but splotched with blood dangled from his arm. He was old, with a dark beard striped with white and a bald head. He had a permanent frown on his forehead, much like her grandfather. This man’s eyes were blue, also like her grandfather, but they weren’t deep and clear and kind. Just the opposite, they were hazy and cold and frightening.
The bald man pointed a pulse gun at her grandfather. “The tails are my gift to the arkanian people, one of many.”
Her grandfather raised himself on one elbow and spat blood onto the other man’s boot.
The man tsk-tsked. “Is that how the mighty Last Protector greets his old friend?”
“You are no friend of mine.”
“Yet we know each other better than anyone else in this miserable universe.”
Sabina struggled to turn and face the man, still on her knees. She could grit her teeth against the pain and stand, but she preferred to let the bald man think she was out of the fight. “I take it this is Mikail,” she said, groaning.
“I’d stay down if I were you, young miss,” Mikail said, glancing at her. His eyes made her freeze in place. This man had taken her grandfather down in a matter of seconds—did she have a chance against him? She swallowed the knot in her throat and focused on keeping her limbs steady. Her right arm was numb and the pain in her back was excruciating, so she couldn’t defeat him in a fair fight. She exchanged glances with her grandfather. His eyes and the way he pinched his face told her everything. He would create a diversion again, but this time her task would be to run.